RANDY ORTON REVEALS HE’S ACTUALLY A ROBOT FROM THE FUTURE
By Sean Carless & Catherine Perez
Stamford, CT – He hears voices in his head. For pro grappler Randy Orton, 30, this is not only the familiar chorus of his wrestling entrance music, but also a literal case; a covert beacon of messages he claims are being sent to him via his home world– a world he also claims means us no harm, despite many wrestling pundits claiming that his matches convey the complete opposite message.
“I don’t wish to hurt anyone,” the once perceived 3rd generation star persisted. “If I cause or have caused any pain during the course of my matches for those watching, I promise you it’s unintentional.”
To the average person, Randy Orton appears no different than any other wrestler. Seriously. They all look identical. The reality, however, is that the man referred to as the ‘Apex Predator’ and ‘Viper’ is, in fact, not a man at all, but rather a sentient robot that arrived from the future, sent back by his own stoic admission to save his dying race of hive-minded cybernetics the only way they knew how – by isolating the secret to human charisma; a mission that the emotionless and drawling Orton regrets to inform is failing.
“I may leave empty handed,” Orton admitted in stunted syllable, still trying his best to appear human, but failing miserably.
For the android grappler, his journey was one that actually began on a rural farm owned by the man whom he would then claim was his father, Bob Orton Jr., in the mid-1980’s; an arrival amidst property destruction and mass chaos that eventually led him to destroy several hotel rooms in the latter 2000’s in an effort to recapture this very same, familiar comfort of his adopted home.
“I actually arrived here naked,” a stilted Orton — who became self-aware in 2004; then aware that he used far too many rest-holds in 2009 — recalled of his initial appearance on earth, and also the nature of his time-bending travels. “Material cannot come through the warp. It’s why I never wear pants. You have to always be ready for that call back.”
For Orton, that call has never come, however. In the interim, he has not waned in his study of our culture, evolution (“It’s a mystery full of changes no one sees,” says the optimistic Orton) and history.
“I’ve never stopped learning,” he again insisted. “I’ve taken to studying the great minds and scholars of your time in an effort to know more; educated men known as Steve Lombardi and Gerald Brisco; men who’ve opened my eyes to the truth that a deity named ‘Mr. Macccc-Mahon’ was actually responsible for the full progress and accomplishment of your civilization.”
But what can we learn from this omnipresent cyborg itself? The answers are surprising. Turns out that his favorite offense, the vaunted chin-lock, is not a boring way to transition and catch one’s breath, constantly, at all, but rather the unique organism’s (real name RKO-R2Tedious)language, and its only way of actually communicating back with his lost world.
But what do these Chin-locks say exactly?
“Nothing even remotely interesting,” Orton revealed coldly with a stalled, enunciated burr, yet without a shred of doubt, before further revealing that the familiar “snake mannerisms” witnessed during his matches were, in actuality, nothing more than an initial glitch; an anomaly seemingly created by his own internal programming desperately attempting to assimilate (only to then reject) his desired charisma.
“I was so close,” Orton soon went on with as much emotion as he was then apparently capable of mustering, all despite twenty-plus years amongst humanity. “I’m thinking that perhaps I chose the wrong wrestling era to look for it.”
So, what exactly does the future hold for this complex machinery, yet terribly uninteresting wrestler?
“More time travel seems to be the only option, other than varying my offense to more than 3 holds,” Orton declared confusingly, but honestly, whilst breaking out one last rest-hold in an attempt to re-establish contact with his lost race. “I’ve recently created an alternate means to fuel my time travel; a fusion device powered by simple garbage,” he continued. “Thus far, I figure Brian Gewirtz’s RAW scripts have the energy to send me to the very dawn of existence, if need be.”
We here at Wrestlecrap wish him the best of luck/a better way to transition to his few interesting moves.
SHANE HELMS FOLLOWS SHAWN MICHAELS TO SOUP KITCHEN “JUST TO KEEP HIM IN LINE”
By Justin Henry
San Antonio, TX – Retired from the squared circle, and enjoying his life of family and faith, soon-to-be WWE Hall of Famer Shawn Michaels now spends his Wednesday nights at the San Antonio Metropolitan Ministry (SAMM) to help dole out food to the homeless and needy.
This past Wednesday night, however, the attendees included someone in need of lessons in etiquette moreso than food.
Shane Helms, 36, of Smithfield, NC, flew into San Antonio to extend his long-standing grudge with Michaels.
“I never cared for Michaels, because he’s a fake Christian,” Helms declared. “So I followed him down to this soup kitchen to remind him of what a fraud he is!”
Helms stood approximately ten feet away from the chow line, hurling epithets and insults at Michaels, much in the similar manner that Helms has done on both his personal Twitter account, as well as his internet podcast.
“At one point, he threw a tennis ball at Shawn and knocked the ladle out of his hand,” said Sister Roberta Nunez, who was also helping serve the homeless on Wednesday. “Then as Shawn was getting another ladle to serve the waiting gentleman with the bowl, Mr. Helms yelled something about how Shawn was a hypocrite because he dropped the ladle. I don’t know, I believe Mr. Helms may have been drinking.”
While Michaels steadfastly ignored Helms’ petulance, Sister Nunez and other aides dourly asked Helms to stop being a nuisance and, if he wanted to prove his worth, get to serving the needy.
“Mr. Helms was very mean, and I don’t think he likes people,” said Christopher Durdle, a twelve year old Boy Scout. “He kept telling me he was the greatest wrestler ever, and I said to him that he must have main evented more Wrestlemanias than Shawn. Mr. Helms didn’t say another word for twenty minutes, except for ones that he muttered that I can’t repeat.”
Helms left ten minutes later, and the rest of the evening went on without incident.
“I feel bad for the guy, because I don’t really remember slighting him,” Michaels offered the following day. “Come to think of it, I don’t really remember him all that well. Wasn’t he the French guy with the poodle who did the side to side dance?”
“TERRY GARVIN JUST WASN’T INTO ME” CLAIMS LONELY, BITTER SHANE DOUGLAS
By Justin Henry
SPittsburgh, PA – Life hasn’t been easy for the man known as “The Franchise.”
The 46 year old former ECW Champion has nothing left but memories of his odyssey of a wrestling career. Though one would think Shane Douglas would look back at his greatest achievements, such as pioneering Extreme Championship Wrestling, or perhaps his tag team run with Ricky Steamboat, Douglas instead thinks about the lows of his career.
“Above the elbow injuries and the BS run as Intercontinental Champion, there wasn’t much worse,” a bitter Douglas sniped. “But I’d have to say that the ultimate bad moment of my career was when Terry Garvin was a WWF road agent. He used to sexually assault all those young, good-looking kids. But, for whatever reason, he would never come near me!”
While one may think avoiding Terry Garvin’s “self-defense techniques” would be to one’s benefit, Douglas holds the opposite opinion.
“It got lonely on the road, and sometimes women just weren’t enough. I’d see Garvin rubbing the shoulders of some fresh-faced jobber or ringboy, and I’d long for that rough caress of calloused hands. I tried my hardest to get Terry’s attention without seeming needy, but nothing worked.”
Douglas explained how he went to extreme lengths to try and appeal to Garvin’s insatiable lust.
“I heard he would get turned on by the color orange, so I wore orange trunks for that entire 1990-91 run. I even grew that ungodly mullet, because I knew he was the dominant type and liked to “pull on something” during the act. I even asked if he could teach me some of his, you know, defense techniques. But nothing!”
Douglas somberly explained how his attempts at scoring man-on-man action with a true veteran came to an end.
“Then he gave it to me straight, and said he wasn’t interested because since I had a written contract, it was against company policy to bind me up when he was done with me, and then drop me off in the middle of nowhere. I was crushed. I said I could switch to a verbal deal, but he said it would look too obvious.”